


Raggedy Man ► Newt Scamander + Reader

by phoenixisnthome



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Fluff, Multilingual Reader, Reader Is A Flower Seller, Reader Travels A Lot, Reader Works With Jacob, reader is a witch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 02:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixisnthome/pseuds/phoenixisnthome
Summary: "If I tell you a story, will you listen?"He looks up from his book and at me. I fiddle with my little blue notebook nervously and look up at him through my lashes."Of course."His voice is gentle. I take a shuddering breath, running my fingers over my notebook. I think back to the other four nestled in the drawers nearby.He sets down his book and looks at me expectantly. I look down, unable to meet his eyes. I hesitate one final time, and finally open the book I've hidden away for weeks.





	1. RAGGEDY MAN

_"Once, there was a raggedy man  
__running from place to place_  
_accompanied only by his battered case_  
  
_Once, there was a lonely girl_  
 _anchored to her home_  
 _unable to run away and see the world for her own."_

 

* * *

 

 

**RAGGEDY MAN**

**NEWT SCAMANDER + READER**

 

**COMING SOON**


	2. prologue: a handful of flowers

**IT IS A COLD AND** quiet morning. Newt hurries through the streets with his nose nuzzled deep into his Prussian blue overcoat, fingers clamped firmly on the handle of his case as the harsh wind cuts knives into his cheeks. His fingers are red and raw, the unfriendly cold refusing to relent as he shakes his head, pulling his case closer to him and checking the address on the paper bunched in his hands. 

He passes several strangers as he wanders up and down winding streets, their faces blurred and unfamiliar as he keeps his eyes on the grey pavement below him. Newt wonders briefly if New York was always this grey. Last time he was here, the city had seemed so colourful and bright. Then again, he supposes that this time it is colder, stormier and so much _greyer_.

He spots the street sign maybe five metres away, vaguely remembering that the coffee shop he's supposed to be meeting up with Jacob in is on just about the same street as his bakery.

He considers the storefronts briefly, wondering whether or not he should buy something for Jacob, whether or not he's expecting anything. He always does this before a social encounter, overthinking everything. He shakes away the anxious feeling slowly welling in the pit of his stomach.

He looks up from the pavement as he reaches the bakery, stopping himself just in time not to run into the girl standing directly outside it.

She's standing in a slightly hunched position, a black scarf embroidered with various badges bundled around her neck and a tray of flowers clutched in her trembling hands. She stands with her feet turned in and her shoulders drawn up to her head.

"Um," he says quietly, vaguely aware that it's potentially quite creepy of him to be talking to a stranger on the street. "Ma'am? Are you okay?"

She looks up from her tray with a suddenness that startles him into taking a brief step back. Her eyes widen out of excitement, and he's startled by how intense that shade of [colour] is to him.

"Oh, hello sir!" she says happily, a sharp contrast to the morose girl he'd seen moments before. She holds up the tray of flowers with a hopeful smile. "Would you like some flowers?"

"Um," he fumbles with his words, one hand tightening on his case agitatedly and the other opening and closing on midair. He looks down at his feet again, unable to hold eye contact with this bright-eyed stranger. 

"I- uh, n-no, I-I was just, uhm..." he takes a deep breath and shakes his head uncertainly. "You just looked a little, uh, upset, and I was wondering if..."

He trails off as she droops again, visibly defeated. She reminds him a little of the meticulously arranged flowers in her wooden tray; she had been so bright just moments before, and now she droops like a sun-deprived tulip.

"O-oh," she says, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. "Oh, alright. It's quite alright, sir. I won't trouble you any longer. Please, be on your way."

Her manner is both strange and familiar; her clipped British accent reminds him a little of his brother. He wonders what she's doing out here on the streets of New York with a tray of flowers, so far from home. He supposes that she has more to her than meets the eye; the badges on her scarf are foreign, ones he has not seen before, though he recognises the Hogwarts crest among them. 

 _She must be magical._ He allows himself a moment to ponder it; what is her story? She looks as if she has some fantastic tales to tell, but Newt knows that he doesn't have it in him to ask if she can.

She exhales defeatedly, her breath ghosting in the cold winter air as she curls in on herself a little more. The sight reminds Newt of the Mooncalves when he refuses to give them more food, and he finds himself feeling strangely defensive. 

"I- actually, o-on second thought," he begins, stepping a little closer to her. "I would quite like some- uh, some flowers."

She perks up almost comically quickly, her eyes brightening again and her smile returning full force. "Really?"

"Really," he replies, eyes running over the various flowers on her tray. "But- ah, I'm afraid that I don't really know much about flowers."

"I'm sure I could help you with that, sir," she is almost glowing in her happiness; her joy is infectious, and Newt finds a small smile beginning to tug on the corners of his lips as he watches her pick out a small bouquet of flowers. He doesn't know their names nor how to look after them, but he doesn't care, because he is too fixated on her bright smile.

"What kind of flowers are these?" He asks her, observing the way her face lights up like a firework as she registers the question.

"Oh, well, these white ones here, these are White Sail arum lilies. They're quite lovely to look at on a rainy day - I find that the dew goes wonderfully with the colour. These small ones at the edges are called Maui Moonlight bearded rhizome irises - they're quite summery flowers, and you'll find they're at their best and brightest then. These are roses, as you'll probably be able to tell - I find that dark red is delightful among pale colours - they're usually used as ornament flowers, and they smell quite strong. I think they're called Mister Lincoln roses, but I'm not entirely sure.

"And these purple ones are- oh!" she looks embarrassed, suddenly realising that she's been rambling. "I'm sorry. You must be bored by now - most people are when I start talking about botany!"

She reaches out and rearranges the flowers clutched in Newt's hand in a flustered fashion. He watches her as, unbeknown to him, his smile begins to grow.

Newt isn't so much a talker as he is an observer - he never realises it himself, but he has the most curious expression on his face as he contemplates the girl. He has seen something the glint of her eyes, in the curve of her face, in the movement of her lips that he can't quite read. He doesn't know what it was, but it fills him with burning curiosity. 

There had been passion written across her face plainly - the kind of passion Newt finds in himself when he talks about his creatures, his beasts. He sees her enthusiasm in the intensity of her eyes, and he finds it intoxicating. Newt has never been much of a plant-lover - certainly, he loves observing the natural habitats of his creatures, but he can't muster the patience to care for and grow flowers in the nurturing fashion that this girl so plainly does. He finds it rather amusing, really - they are opposites in many ways, that much he can tell even from their small conversation, but he sees a similarity in the deep love they both hold, albeit for two different things.

"Oh, it's quite alright," he tells her, adjusting his grip on his case and carefully placing the flowers in his left breast pocket where Pickett will hopefully protect them rather than shred them. "It was interesting. Really," he added as he saw her expression turn disbelieving. "It really was."

"Well, thank you then, sir," she says happily.

"How much do I owe you?" he asks her, pulling out his old wallet and sorting through it, hoping that he's brought some American money. He finds none, but, still under the impression that she's magic and, at some point, went to Hogwarts, he decides to take a shot in the dark and draws out five silver Sickles, casting a surreptitious glance around at the Muggles around him to make sure none are watching before pressing it into her hand. She looks down at the coins and double-takes, looking up at him curiously.

"Hogwarts?" she queries in a whisper. He nodded. "Me too. At least for a year."

She pockets three coins and hands the other two back. "My rates aren't that high, and I don't want to bleed you dry just in case," she says as she drops them into his palm. "Besides, you wanting flowers is in and of itself enough to make my day."

"Well, you're welcome," he tells her, smiling nervously. "Thank you for the flowers. Th... they look exquisite."

"No problem, sir," she says. She rummages for something in the tray and pulls out a small spray of pressed forget-me-nots pinned to a small square of card. "Here," she pins them onto the lapel of his coat for him with a vivacious and playful wink. "A little keepsake. Maybe I'll see you around, Raggedy Man."

He waves a farewell to her and walks away.

_Raggedy man. Raggedy man. Raggedy man._

Newt repeats the words under his breath. They are strangely fitting.

He brings a hand up to the spray of forget-me-nots absentmindedly, turning to see that she has retreated into the neck of her coat again.

_"Maybe I'll see you around."_

_Yes. I'd quite like that._

 

 

 


End file.
